Best Friend Helps Blind Man Achieve New Heights

With guide dog at side, Weatherall makes most of his life

After being blinded 14 years ago in a chemical explosion, Barry Weatherall… (Cloe Poisson, Hartford…)

June 09, 2012|Lori Riley

MANCHESTER – Back when he could see, Barry Weatherall was afraid of heights.

But when he was 36 – 14 years ago – his life changed dramatically. Weatherall was working as a plumbing and heating engineer when a pipeful of chemicals exploded in his face.

"The chemicals went 40-50 feet in the air, so that shows you the strength of the explosion," Weatherall said. "I'm lucky to be alive, even not burnt on my nose and lips, because the only thing I kept on for protection was a paper dust mask, and it saved me. I wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for that."

He was alive. But he lost sight instantly in one eye and the other when he arrived at the hospital.

Eight years ago, he got a Fidelco guide dog. He started to try new things, get out more. Four years ago, he started rock climbing.

Now he is not afraid of heights. He swims, bikes, runs and competes in triathlons. He has driven a car (don't worry, he was off-road). He has gone white-water rafting. He has ridden a horse.

Most importantly, as much as he can be, he is an independent person. Weatherall, who hails from Red Deer, Alberta, was in Connecticut Wednesday to speak at a Fidelco donor dinner and do a little rock climbing at the Stone Age Rock Gym in Manchester.

"He gives me independence, gets me out," Weatherall said of his 4-year-old German shepherd, Owen. "If I'm feeling blue, I've got to walk my dog. Once I get up and walk my dog, I feel a lot better.

"I can do a lot more stuff with him. It's that freedom of not having to ask somebody, that freedom I know I can go do that by myself, which then gives me the confidence to try something else. When I do it and I achieve it, it's like, 'Brilliant, I can do that.' Now I can move on to the next step. He makes a huge difference. If I was with the white cane, I'd be spending a lot more time just sitting in the house, doing nothing."

Fidelco, based in Bloomfield, has been training guide dogs since 1960. It cost $45,000 to train each dog. The organization has placed 1,300 dogs in North America, 41 states and five Canadian provinces.

The group loves Weatherall, the ultimate embodiment of what its clients can achieve.

"He does more than most sighted people do," said Sharon Burke, director of communications for Fidelco.

One weekend, three years ago, Weatherall went out with a documentary crew, and it filmed him horseback riding, rock climbing, white-water rafting and, yes, driving a car.

"The only problem was my guide, who was in the passenger seat, she started off OK, then all of a sudden, she got confused and nervous and she started pointing," Weatherall said. "After she started pointing — because I wasn't turning the way she was pointing — she ended up grabbing the wheel. I'm going, 'What the heck's going on here?' That was a lot of fun."

The documentary (part of it is on YouTube) was titled "Brilliant," one of Weatherall's favorite words.

In the film, Weatherall says: "When I had vision, I was working so much I never really had time to go out and do some things. I'm more adventurous now that I can't see."

Like rock climbing – that's not exactly something Weatherall would have done before he lost his sight.

"I don't see the ground now," he said. "I think it's that visual side, it kind of frightens you with the vision. Because I don't have the vision, I don't even think about it. I just climb. I don't think about falling."

At first it was hard to find the holes or the grips on the rocks. He also had no stamina. But he got stronger the more he did.

Wednesday, he zipped up and down the walls at the gym with ease, as Owen, in a harness, waited patiently on the padded floor.

"He's not afraid to push himself and push his bounds," said Kevin West, Stone Age's owner. "He doesn't just stand there and feel around. He's pushing up, holding his body under tension. He's got very much a go-get-it kind of attitude.

"That's the right kind of attitude for someone who's going to climb — not timid, willing to take a risk, willing to push themselves a little bit. That's probably a lot to do with his personality and working with his dog."

Weatherall said he doesn't have a bucket list and no particular goals to achieve. Each day, he said, brings its own challenges.

"I don't need to jump out of a plane," he said. "Walking my dog, especially with the drivers nowadays, they're so distracted — that's my challenge.

"I don't like doing goals or bucket lists. If you get older and you never achieve what you want to do, you're always looking back on life and regretting it. I don't want to do that. I go and do things because the opportunity arises and it feels good to do. I really don't plan on too much. That's just me."